Perchance to Dream
by Verboten Byacolate
Summary: Sweden hasn't slept in months. Her family goes to great lengths to fix this problem. Finland/fem!Sweden


She's actually pretty cute when she sleeps.

Finland catches himself staring and pops back to attention, watching England and America argue over the importance (or lack thereof) for positioning a giant freeze-ray in a purely American-made, Japan-approved satellite over the Arctic tundra to fend off global warming. On the subject of polar bears, Russia's smile gets frosty, and Finland can practically feel Latvia's violent shaking all the way across the table.

When Germany nearly literally begins battling to get the conversation back on track, Finland turns to look at his companion again. Even with Germany's bellows shaking the windows, she remains asleep, the back of her head resting on the tall back of the chair, tilted toward him. Her lips are part and her eyebrows furrow in just the slightest fashion when America's laugh overpowers Germany's frustration, and Finland notices that her glasses have slipped down the bridge of her nose; comically, with her freshly grown-out hair tied in a business-like bun and her spectacles nearly at the tip of her nose, she looks like an old librarian. He smiles faintly and reaches over, pushing them back up and brushing the pale bangs from her forehead as a second thought.

A tiny sigh passes from between her lips and he takes note of the deep, dark circles under her eyes. It isn't as though she isn't getting any sleep; it's just that she isn't getting much of it. What with the state of today's world, she has been too restless to get a proper night's sleep. He has often woken up to an otherwise empty bed and, upon further investigation, found Sweden holed up in her workshop, tinkering with something or other in her pajamas.

He knew that, in those instances, she only came back to bed out of consideration for Finland, and even though she tossed and turned restlessly, she did stay there with him upon his request.

It probably would have been best for her to be awake during a world meeting, but seeing such a peaceful expression on her face for the first time in months made it not so important. He would just take really good notes for her to fret over later.

He returns his attention to the meeting only to find that it has become increasingly louder. Normally, it is easy to drown out the verbal battles of his fellow nations, but with Sweden finally getting some rest, it starts to grate on his nerves. Instead of keeping an ear open for the surrounding conversations, of which there are many, his eyes flit back and forth to Sweden, whose expression is less restful and more like there is a fly in her vaniljsås.

The Italies complain about their empty bellies, Spain coos, France flirts with everyone in his radius, Prussia cackles, Germany is still bellowing, America and England haven't stopped arguing, and nearly everyone else grumbles about any number of things. Sweden's lips press into a thin line.

And Peter climbs up into his chair and onto the table, either not noticing or blatantly ignoring Finland's chastising whisper, and throws his hands in the air, silently waving them about.

The noise dies down as people begin to notice the little boy's display for attention. Germany looks like he is half relieved that the room is finally under control, and half upset that he is not the one who had been able to make it so.

Tino realizes then from the uncomfortable tension in his brow that he has been frowning. Rather fiercely, at that. He relaxes his frustrated expression and clears his throat at Peter, who doesn't seem to notice.

If Sealand is pleased that he is able to garner everyone's attention, his scowl does not profess it. Looking around at all of the expectant faces (and was he purposefully avoiding Tino's? There would be _words_ later, mark him…) he put a finger up to his lips.

"Papa's sleeping, so you'd better hush up, or my mama's gonna _bust you up_."

There is no movement out of the corner of his eye, which is why Finland is scared so badly when a single, strong voice tiredly growls, "G't down, P'ter. Y' know bett'r."

Apparently, Sealand hadn't noticed that Sweden had woken up, either, because he very nearly jumps out of his skin, hastily scrambling back into his seat.

Sweden looks around the room, clearing her throat, her cheeks a little pink as all of the attention is focused then on her. (Finland doesn't worry about anyone else seeing the cute embarrassment playing over her face, because no one will be able to see past the "scary" expression she presents so effortlessly.)

"Y' were sayin', G'rmany?"

The blond snaps back to attention and places a palm on the pulpit, speaking purposefully at the rest of the table, very obviously pleased that order was restored in his domain. Finland catches Sweden staring point-blank at his notes and smiles, scribbling a small, _You can copy them later for yourself if you'd like_, on the side. She nods in a businesslike fashion, but Finland doesn't miss the way her expression softens, how her eyes flicker up to his in gratitude.

She's pretty cute when she's asleep, but he would be lying if he claimed that he didn't find her positively adorable when she was awake as well.

When the meeting adjourns, Finland pretends to chastise Sealand for his behavior, and discretely passes him a ginger snap when no one is looking. It's good parenting, he thinks, to reward a child for a job well done.

And what better job could there be, when one is small, than to act as protector of the viking?

* * *

He wakes in the wee hours of the morning to find a large dose of nothing in his arms. There is an even larger amount of nothing by his side, and it does nothing to please him, so he slides out of bed and lets his sleepy feet take him down the path he has traveled nearly every night for the past few months. The only thing that has changed this time is that at the end of his journey, he is not met with the stooped figure of his spouse, tinkering at one thing or another over her workbench. The room is dark and no one is inside. Frowning, Tino searches the house for Sweden.

She is not seated at the fireside with a book in her hands, nor is she in the kitchen making some dessert or another. She isn't asleep in the tub (that particular morning was a fright indeed) and she hasn't crawled back into bed since he's been gone like he hoped.

Back in the hall, though, if he listens carefully, he can hear a faint rhythmic creak a few doors down.

Finland gently opens Peter's door to find exactly what he's been looking for.

The young British boy is wrapped snugly in Sweden's arms and she rocks him in the beautifully crafted rocking chair she has built herself. Her eyes are unfocused and it isn't until he whispers her name that she looks up, her expression almost too tired to be sheepish.

"Fin," she murmurs back. The picture before him is just too precious. Peter's sandy blond hair is overlapped by Sweden's paler locks as his head is nestled in the crook of her shoulder. She is so tired that she can not bring herself to lift her cheek from his head and Tino takes pity. He nears the two, gently lifting Sealand from her arms and settling him back under his covers before he returns and lifts gathers her up, too.

His body may be small, but he is far stronger than he seems, and Sweden does nothing but fold her arms over his shoulders and rest her head against his neck. In the bedroom, he tucks her against his side, kissing her temple and whispering in her ear. His tone was gentle, low, and on any other occasion probably would have held words befitting a far more intimate tangle beneath the sheets. However, the words he murmurs are not made of heat, but rather of the stock market, a dusty business report from the twentieth century, the populations of all the Finnish cities in alphabetical order.

She falls deep into sleep with her long, slim fingers bunched in his night shirt, her breathing deep and even, and he is only up to Hämeenlinna. Finland kisses her forehead and holds her close to his heart.

And finally, the lioness sleeps.

* * *

Because I was sick and tired of not writing fem!Su out for myself.  
In my headcanon, fem!Sweden is still Papa.  
And Finland is still th' wife.  
Do not deny me this.


End file.
